


Toushirou's Day Off

by irleggsy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, written before the 1000 year arc went to shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irleggsy/pseuds/irleggsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hitsugaya's lament after the war is interrupted by Rangiku. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toushirou's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I was 11 when I wrote this and this was originally posted on fanfiction.net so cut me some slack if the wording is a bit off b/c i'm too lazy to change anything. originally posted february 2014. also, bleach's ending was shit, oh my god.

Toshiro was having a slow day at work.

Matsumoto was out getting drunk off her ass, leaving him and the poor, poor, third and fourth-seats to do the paperwork. She even had the gall to ask him to join her before breaking out into a sprint after frost start creeping through the hallway's walls. The third seat had already given up, walking out the door, pulling his hair out, with a resounding, "I QUIT!" and a slamming of the wood-and-paper doors.

Darn. Second one this week. This had to be a new record or something.

Maybe he should start blackmailing Rangiku. The only thing was, he couldn't get any good pictures, because wow that woman can hold her sake. Well, not surprising, considering that she most likely had over a century's worth to raise her booze tolerance.

…If she had alcohol while she was still rather young, it would explain… everything about her, actually.

And all this only happened in the morning.

And then there had been a mistake when he was doing papers to request a transfer for a new third seat. Which meant he had to do them all again.

As much paperwork as he did, that did not mean he liked it. Heck, if it weren't completely necessary for the government of soul society and a captain's duty to do it in the first place, he would've requested the soutaicho for a giant bonfire to burn every single form and certificate and letter and request and just EVERYTHING.

Or, you know. If people could stand his spiritual pressure, he would rather Yammamoto-Taicho burned it all with Ryujin Jakka.

But, you know, he's dead. But if he had…

Shunsui would've cried tears of happiness. Matsumoto would follow his example.  
Zaraki wouldn't understand what was happening because he didn't even know they had paperwork.  
The entire tenth division would celebrate. And he wouldn't have to keep replacing his third seats.

And that would've been great.

But Hitsugaya is a realist. And let's face reality. That is nowhere near to happening any time soon.

Not only had Rangiku ditched him for alcohol, he had to get a new third seat, yet that wasn't the worst part.

There was a giant mountain of paperwork coming in, especially after the Quincy War. Many deaths to honor, many families to write to…

He sighed and ran a hand through his winter white hair before laying his head on his desk.

That drink didn't sound so bad anymore. It had been a stressful day.

Turning off the lights in his office, he turned to face his office. The moon was visible from his window. A full moon.

Silver light streamed in through the glass onto a willowy silhouette in the floor, creating a lacy design all over the floor and walls.

He shut the door. He had a lieutenant to find.

But that was easy to do. Just follow the path of destruction: drunk, doozy men and women alike woo-ing about having a good time off work and men talking animatedly about a blonde seductress with great orange tresses.

He snorted as he stepped out into the (thankfully) cool night.

"Fools. Everyone knows that if you see Matsumoto, if you want your dignity and honor intact the next day, you run. Unless you're looking to drink yourself into a messy stupor," he muttered.

But that was exactly what he was going to do.

//

The next day, Toshiro had no idea what was happening.

He had woken on a couch in his office (one of the three; he installed 2 more couches to go alongside his first one. After Rangiku had started bring Hisagi and Kira to his office after their drinking binges, he would rather he not open his office door to see his lieutenant on his couch snoring away while there lay two hungover men passed out on the floor in a similar state as her.) with Rangiku in cloud nine across from him.

Hinamori was actually on the other couch. Huh. Not expecting that one.

He sniffed his uniform tentatively, like it might have poisonous powder on it— yep, it smelled pretty bad. He did a breath test. Yuk- he reeked of alcohol.

As he tried to remember what happening yesterday, he only got a few flashes- ice cubes clinking serenely in a honey-golden drink, Matsumoto doing karaoke with Momo, Ikkaku doing a stupid dance in a loincloth as Yumichika did the biggest, most comedic spit take he had ever seen, and one or two of the captains actually passed put on the wooden furniture of a classy, hole-in-the-wall bar while the bartender tried to kick them out of the place without upsetting the most powerful shinigami in soul society.

He smiled and hummed in content.

It was just what he needed.


End file.
